


Lily's Eyes

by la_topolina



Series: Found Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Libraries, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina
Summary: Severus knew that taking in four-year-old Harry Potter would be a trial. But he hadn't realized how much the child's green eyes would haunt him.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Found Magic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894882
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	Lily's Eyes

Severus Snape was elbow deep in a wrestling match with the spiny arms of his choking-berry bush, struggling to bring in what he could of the late summer harvest. It was a wretchedly hot day, much better suited to being indoors in the cool of the basement with a book. Unfortunately, he was due back at Hogwarts in less than a week, and whatever he left on the stem or vine would be consigned to wither and die. Some of this was necessary—a careful selection of the plants would go to seed to provide the starter for next year’s garden—but his potions stores were greedy for the fruit of his summer labours. It galled him to let them go to waste.

The way that Harry Potter had been trailing after him like a shadow galled him too. The boy was currently digging in an empty patch of dirt with a stick, and watching Severus with wide eyes that seemed too large for his wan face. Those green eyes had been watching him unceasingly, and every time Severus met their wary, curious gaze, his stomach turned. Their likeness to his fallen friend ( _betrayed friend—and you betrayed her_ ) was unmistakeable. It made his skin crawl.

Sweat was stinging his eyes, and his shirt was sticking to him unpleasantly as he wrenched the last of the berries from their branches. He added them to the neat row that was drying in the sun, and sat back on his heels to catch his breath. Harry continued to dig and to stare, until Severus felt compelled to say something to diffuse a silence that seemed censorious to his guilty soul.

“It’s…er…dreadfully hot, isn’t it Harry?” he said. Brilliant. Just what he wanted to be doing—making small talk with a four-year-old. 

Harry blinked back at him curiously, but said nothing. Severus turned away to start on the witch’s weed, but he could feel that infernal stare boring into the back of his neck. He threw down his sheers, unable to stand another moment alone with Lily’s child. He stalked to the faucet, flipped it on, and splashed the cold water on his face. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d rescued the child from the Dursleys’ inhospitable house, and he was already nearing the end of his patience. Washing away the sweat of the afternoon did make him feel slightly more human and less haunted. He glanced over his shoulder at his charge, and decided that a change of scene might do both of them some good.  
  
“Come, Harry. Wash your hands and we’ll go for a walk.”

******

The Cokeworth Library sat near enough to the finer streets of haughty, neighboring Coldfield that, like Moses, she could see the Promised Land, but never enter it. A former owner of the Mill that had employed most of Cokeworth until recent years had donated his townhouse to create the library in a fit of deathbed generosity. Whether or not his alms had done anything to save his soul from Dives’ fate, he had created one of the havens that had allowed Severus to make it through his childhood alive. He’d spent many hours in the faded building, reading and rereading the modest collection of books until closing time would force Mrs Stark to send him home. This same woman, gray-haired now, greeted him as he and Harry passed her circulation desk in the parlor.

“Professor Snape! It’s so nice to see you,” she said brightly. “And who is this young man you’ve brought with you today?”

Severus had the strong urge to tug nervously at his sleeve, but Harry refused to let go of his hand.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Stark,” he replied. “This is my…er…ward, Harry Potter. Lily Evans’ son.”

Mrs Stark’s expression softened, and her eyes grew bright behind her wire-rimmed spectacles. 

“You’ve had a busy summer, haven’t you professor?”

“Indeed.”

The librarian got up from her desk and extended her hand to Harry. The boy studied her as he hesitantly let go of Severus to take it.

“Hello, Master Harry,” she said. “My name is Mrs Stark, and I knew your mother. She used to come here every Saturday afternoon when she was a child. Would you like me to show you some of her favorite books?”

Severus held his breath as he waited for Harry’s response. Merlin help him if the child spooked and started to cry.

“Yes, please,” Harry said at last.

The children’s section was still nestled in what once had been a bedroom on the first floor. The bright paint on the walls and the colorful rag rug were both somewhat dingy, and the books on the shelves were worn, but from love rather than abuse. The windows looked out over a garden blooming with sunflowers and gladioli, and the little table with the trains was right in the far corner where Severus remembered it. Harry gasped at the sight, and ran for the table. Soon he was engrossed in lining up the train cars and pushing them over the tracks. 

“I suppose I ought to get some toys for the boy,” Severus mused wryly.

“My girl Janet left a box of her toys in our attic,” Mrs Stark said as she stooped to pull a selection of books from the shelves and stack them on the rug. “I could send them over tomorrow if you think he’d like them. They’re simple things, blocks and balls mostly. But I think there’s a little train set in there too.”

He felt his ears growing hot at the unexpected generosity. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? It would be a help to me. She says she doesn’t want them, and I’ve been meaning to get rid of them for years.”

He had the distinct feeling that she was not going to capitulate. “I…suppose. If it would be a help.”

“Thank you. It would.” She put a final book on the stack and pushed herself up from the floor. “Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Enjoy the trains, Harry.”

Harry made a sound like a steam whistle in response, and Mrs Stark laughed as she went out of the room. Severus leaned against the window frame, looking out at the garden and watching Harry in the reflection of the glass. As the boy played, Severus’s mind began to wander down dangerous memories involving green eyes, red hair, and hateful words. He firmly set it to the task of cataloguing the rest of his garden for harvest or seed.

Eventually Harry tired of the train table, and he plopped down on the rug by the stack of books. He went through them carefully, turning the pages and running his little fingers over the pictures. When he came to one featuring a rabbit in a blue coat, he looked up with entreating eyes. Severus had to restrain himself from flinching. 

“What is it, Harry?” he asked.

“Please read?” Harry replied.

“Ah.” Severus took the book and reluctantly sat down on the floor next to Harry. “I suppose that is the purpose of the library.”

No sooner had Severus finished one book featuring anthropomorphic animals then Harry would hand him the next. The sun beat in through the window as it dipped lower in the sky, making Severus’s back uncomfortably hot. Harry sagged against his arm, his eyelids drooping, until he fell asleep in the middle of _The Tailor of Gloucester_. Severus quietly scooted the boy into a more comfortable position on the rug. Then he picked through the stack of books, selecting the ones he was willing to carry home. It would mean an extra trip to the library to return them, but he had to admit (however grudgingly) that it had been short-sighted of him to neglect to provide for the child’s entertainment. When he’d finished, he gathered the books under one arm, and scooped up Harry with the other, awkwardly managing his load as he went downstairs to the circulation desk in the parlor.

“Here, let me get those for you,” Mrs Stark said, meeting him in the doorway. “Nodded off, did he?”

“He did, thank you,” Severus replied.

She briskly stamped and recorded the books before putting them into a paper sack with handles for him. 

“There was a time or two when you used to fall asleep up in that room,” she said.

“It’s a comfortable rug,” he allowed, picking up the sack. “Thank you Mrs Stark.”

“You’re welcome. It was so good to see you. And to meet Harry.” She rose from the desk to open the door for him. “He has Lily’s eyes, doesn’t he?”

Severus grimaced. “So he does. Good evening, Mrs Stark.”

The trek home was even hotter than the trek to the library had been. His burden of the still sleeping Harry and the sack of picture books seemed unbearably heavy. Severus hated the oppressive heat as afternoon faded into evening even more than the blazing heat of midday. It crushed the lungs and sapped the strength, and by the time Severus arrived back at Spinner’s End, he was completely exhausted. 

He laid Harry on the sofa and collapsed into the armchair, too hot to move. The threadbare curtains were drawn against the summer sun, darkening the shabby sitting room. Severus’s eyes drifted closed, and he hovered between sleep and wakefulness. His lucid dreams were a disturbing brew of his tumultuous school days, ending with him slinking away from Gryffindor tower, Lily’s furious glare searing into the back of his skull. When he started awake, he saw these same eyes blinking at him sleepily from Harry’s face. 

The boy was sitting on the sofa, ever watchful in the shadowy twilight. Severus waved his hand to light the candles in the room, and returned the boy’s stare until he could stand it no longer. He pulled the stack of books from the bag that Mrs Stark had given him and set them on the sofa next to the child.

“You can read these while I make tea,” he said in a stern tone.

“Can’t read,” Harry observed.

Severus forced himself to take a deep breath before answering. “Then look at the pictures.”

He stalked out of the room before the boy could object. The kitchen was infernally hot, and only the knowledge that Minerva would have his head if he neglected to feed the boy three meals a day made him go into it. If it had been him alone, he would have happily spent the evening in his basement potions room and skipped eating altogether. But he wasn’t alone, and even he had to admit that the boy was far too small. 

The leftover roast beef and cheddar in the icebox and the rye bread he’d baked that morning, along with plums from the garden would do for them. He quickly assembled the sandwiches, washed the fruit, and was in the act of setting it all on the table when Harry came into the kitchen.

“I’m thirsty,” Harry said.

Severus poured the child a glass of cider from the icebox and held it out to him. “Here. Come eat, and then I will read to you.”

Harry sipped the cider cautiously. “Mmm, apple juice!”

“Apple cider, Harry. But, lacking the alcohol, I suppose it is little more than spiced apple juice.”

“Apple cider. I like it.”

Harry climbed onto the chair across from Severus and promptly took apart his sandwich, eating each piece of it separately. As he ate, he kept up a near constant narrative, during which he retold the events of the afternoon _ad infinitum_. Severus mostly ignored him, letting the child prattle on undisturbed. After tea, he cleaned the dishes with a quick succession of wand flicks, which Harry (of course) watched with his unnerving eyes. 

When they left the kitchen, Harry disappeared into his bedroom. Severus took advantage of the momentary reprieve and continued to the sitting room. He’d just settled himself on the sofa with the least obnoxious of the picture books close at hand when Harry returned. The boy walked up to Severus and dropped a photograph onto his lap.

“It’s me and Mummy and Daddy,” Harry said proudly.

Severus picked up the picture as though it were a venomous snake. Lily was holding a smaller Harry, beaming up at the camera while James mussed the boy’s already thick hair.

“I see,” Severus said, quickly setting the photograph upside down on the coffee table so that he would not have to look at it.

“Auntie Tuney hid the picture too,” Harry said. “She said it would get torn. But I miss looking at Mummy and Daddy.”

Being compared to Petunia Dursley was a humiliation that Severus did not intend to bear. He picked up the photograph and set it, face up, on the mantel next to the mortar and pestle his mentor had given him upon his attaining his potions mastery. 

“Let’s keep it here for now,” he said. “When we go up to school, we’ll buy a frame for it in Hogsmeade. Then you can take it around with you without tearing it.”

They spent a quiet evening reading on the sofa, and Severus managed to keep his temper even as he slowly went mad from reading the same two picture books over and over to his tyrannical audience. Thankfully, the afternoon nap did not keep Harry from falling asleep at a decent hour. Severus was startled by how weary he felt after one day as the boy’s guardian, but he told himself the heat must be taking more of a toll on him than he’d thought. 

He poured himself a glass of wine, and brought it into the sitting room. Lily, Harry, and James were waving at him from the photograph, and he went to the mantel to glare down at them. All in all, he wasn’t entirely certain that his taking Harry under his protection was one of Minerva’s better plans. But he’d agreed to it, and there was nothing else to be done now but see it through the best he could.

The Lily in the photograph was looking up at him, and mouthing something that looked suspiciously like a thank you. Harry was grinning at him from her arms, and even James was nodding to him with grudging acceptance. The urge to turn the photograph over filled him, but he extinguished the candles instead.

He raised his glass and drank deeply to the family he’d helped rend asunder. And though he knew their ghosts had crossed over long ago, he could feel their eyes watching him still.


End file.
